


Baby Showers

by Columbarius13



Series: The sweetness of laughter [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Ovie is the Flashheart of the Hockey Fandom, Prank Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-05-24 03:45:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6140511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Columbarius13/pseuds/Columbarius13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Alex had enjoyed the All Star Weekend, he didn't like knowing that Flower had come out on top. Fortunately, another opportunity presents itself for him to demonstrate his supremacy...</p><p>In which way too many baby clothes and toys are bought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I did say there would be more if inspiration struck, and what can I say, inspiration struck. While you could read this work as a standalone, it will make a lot more sense if you read the All Star game first. 
> 
> Oh and Sid/Geno is background only I'm afraid, although their part does get bigger as time goes on...

It was all Zhenya’s fault. At least that's what Alex will always maintain. He hadn't really paid a great deal of attention to what was going on in the off-season with the Penguins (if you ignore THAT trade), not until he’d caught Zhenya buying soft toys and baby’s clothes, a plethora of plush penguins and cute creeper suits, in Moscow during Zhenya’s brief visit to Russia in the summer. They’d met up, as arranged, only to find Zhenya rather sheepishly holding several bags from what Alex knew to be one of the more exclusive baby boutiques in Moscow. He’d gazed at the bags for a moment and then looked at Zhenya. 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked with a crooked, interrogative grin towards Zhenya. Because it would be just like Zhenya and Sid to think that just because they believed no-one knew about their relationship, they could somehow smuggle in a child and no-one would notice that either. Someday, Alex was going to have to try and explain subtlety to them, but he knew it would be a losing battle. 

“They’re for Flower!” Zhenya had muttered defensively, pulling out a couple of creeper suits to show him, fingers unconsciously smoothing and caressing the soft material longingly once they are out the bag. 

Alex stared at them briefly and then had looked at Zhenya, brows raised, still laughing. “They look a little small for Flower?”

Zhenya had kept adding to the pile on the table, more creeper suits, in pinks and yellows and creams and more pink, and the first of what turns out to be a very large pile of fuzzy penguins (and one large, stripy, cuddly tiger), even as he had frowned at Alex. 

“They’re for Flower’s baby,” he said, disapproving of Alex’s wilful obtuseness. “Flower and Vero had a little girl yesterday.” 

Of course Alex had heard that Flower’s wife was pregnant - again he thought, but wasn’t entirely sure. But it’s not like he had kept track of the private lives of non-team members. Except, he was forced to acknowledge, Zhenya and that is clearly a separate case. It’s Zhenya who is a friend and Sidney Crosby who is, well, Sidney Crosby. Flower might be Alex’s second favourite goaltender, but there are limits. Nevertheless, when confronted with the news, he had felt happy for the guy. 

“Oh that’s nice. Everything ok?” he asked. 

Zhenya waved a dismissive hand. “No problems, baby girl, all good. Here,” and he’d flicked through his phone until he came across a picture of a tired but grinning Flower holding a red and squalling tiny infant. They’d looked amazingly alike. 

“Oh, so cute,” Alex said, had smiled at the image. “But you only got her penguins?” he’d looked critically at the pile on the table in front of them. “What if she likes other things?”

“I got her a tiger too!” Geno had replied defensively. “But penguins are the best, all children love them.”

“I think you’re trying to brainwash her,” Alex laughed. “It’s abuse.” He looked again at the pile. “Did you buy her every penguin the shop had?”

Geno had blushed in answer. “So what if I did? Cute babies deserve cute things.”

From that point conversation had moved on to how he would ship the gifts to Flower, only to discover that Zhenya was going back early to North America for unexplained reasons - which Alex interpreted as ‘spending time with Sid’ - and so could take the gifts himself. 

“We have Kessel now, will be good to make an early start to training!” Zhenya had said with more enthusiasm about pre-season training than he usually showed. Alex wondered if Sid was bribing him with sex. 

On the way home, Alex sent Flower a text:

 _Congratulations on Baby Flower!!!! #8_

0--0--0

That really should have been the end of it. 

But there is still the small matter of a $7000 bottle of Cognac on a hotel bill in Columbus. 

And a small child who’ll seemingly be bombarded with all things Penguin until she doesn’t realise that Penguins are not the only team. Children should be given a choice, allowed to find their own way in their choice of NHL teams. Alex decides it is his moral duty to teach Baby Flower that there is more than one NHL team available; he doesn’t think that any of the other players on the Penguins will take on the task, but clearly, someone needs to do it. 

As a result he finds himself that evening, browsing the online Capitals store. He hadn’t realised there were so many things with his name on them. Or indeed so many things just for babies and infants, many of them with his name on. Some of them are really cute, too. 

He remembers that babies grow out of things really fast, so for each thing he buys with his name on, he makes sure to buy several sizes so she’ll have a replacement as she gets older. He buys things without his name too. He loves the booties, so he buys a few pairs of those. The ‘Tiny Fan’ creepers are just too adorable. Once he’s exhausted the clothing, he goes onto the toys and accessories; the toys are disappointing, but he buys everything that is there too. He’s just about to check-out his purchases when he realises it may look a little egotistical just to send Baby Flower shirts with only his name on it, given there is an entire team of people in the Washington Capitals, so he quickly finds one of Nicky’s shirts and buys one of those as well for Baby Flower. 

He’s a bit surprised at the total; it has quickly added up. But he thinks of Flower’s face as he unwraps what he hopes will be a large box of Capitals branded merchandise and he clicks ‘Pay’, arranging to have it delivered to his house in Washington so he can wrap it (or get his housekeeper to do it for him) and send it with a personal note. 

0--0--0

A couple of days later, just as he’s starting to prepare to return to the US, he gets an e-mail asking if he can make a call with Barry MacLellan. For once, someone in the front office has calculated time differences correctly between the US and Moscow and it works for both locations; he fires an email back agreeing and potters around, waiting for the call. 

At the appointed time, his phone rings. 

“Alex, glad you could make the call. Hope you’ve had a good summer?”

They exchange pleasantries for a few minutes, Alex getting more and more curious as the call meanders through some polite introductory chit-chat. He can’t remember ever speaking to the GM in the off season before; his contract is pretty concrete, he can’t be traded without his consent and he doesn’t expect to be traded.. but… his GM has called him and is making nice with him in prime trade season. Eventually he has to try to get to the point of the call to find out what it’s about before his curiosity eats him. 

“Barry, you called me, was there something you wanted to speak with me about?”

There’s a pause on the line. 

“Alex, you know we think you’re a great player, we’ve built our franchise around you and we’ll give you as much support as we can. We want to do what’s right by you, but is there anything you think we should know?”

Alex frowns. That… that sounds like they expect a scandal to be brewing. But his conscience is clear. He’s had a quiet summer. There was a small contretemps with the Russians at Worlds, but the NHL players had come out of that well (at least to the NHL - his and Zhenya’s behaviour had gone down less well in Russia, who after all had issued the command to leave the ice early). 

“No, Barry, it’s all good here, I’ve just been concentrating on rebuilding after the playoffs and getting ready for the new season.” He waits expectantly. If they do think they know something, they’ll have to give him more than that. 

“Well, our sales people drew something to my attention earlier - they had a really large order for baby clothes put through and when they looked harder, they noticed it was in your name and to be shipped to your house. Now, obviously, although you’re in a relationship, we were not aware of any possible… “ and he breaks off, seemingly groping for a suitably diplomatic term to use. “Well, you know it’s the modern world now, and while we have to move with the times, at the same time, any possible baby situation would have to be handled carefully to maintain the image of the club and your own reputation…. you know at times like these it’s best if we get ahead of the news cycle to control it…”

Alex’s jaw has been dropping throughout this conversation and he finds himself grinning as he realises the conclusion that the club has reached. He tries not to laugh at his GM, but really, it’s very hard. 

“No… no… they’re not for me! Well I ordered them, but I got them as a gift for someone else. There’s no,” and he pauses trying to remember the phrase MacLellan had used “baby situation. I’m not going to be a father. It’s simply a gift; I wanted someone’s baby to get a good selection of Capitals’ merchandise.” 

There’s a sigh of relief on the end of the line. 

“I think it’s fair to say you’ve got them a good selection!” Maclellan sounds much less hesitant now. “Was there anything for a baby you didn’t buy?” 

“The shop was out of bibs,” the words are out before Alex can stop himself. He’d been annoyed at that and it does come out a bit petulant. 

MacLellan actually laughs. “Since it’s you, I’ll get the guys and girls to check to see if there are any lying around. After all, you’re now a valued customer of the online store!” He pauses again. “The recipient won’t cause us any trouble will they?”

“Oh no, they shouldn’t, it’s another player!” Alex replies aerily. Suddenly he can almost hear MacLellan’s gears grinding as he tries to work that out. There were no recent Capital babies - so long as you don’t count the rookies in that category. 

“Alex, who are they for?” 

Alex would almost refuse to answer, but there’s a plea hidden under that question that he cannot resist. It’s the plea of a proud but worried man, a man who doesn’t want to admit he’s scared about what his prized player is up to. 

“Marc-Andre Fleury’s wife had a baby girl last week and I thought she needed a break from Penguins gear.”

There’s a bark of laughter now from the other end of the line, then an intake of breath. “This isn’t going to be another Columbus?!”

Alex finds his hackles raising at the question. How the fuck does MacLellan know about Columbus? And exactly how much does he know about Columbus - rationally, of course he knows about the sheep selfie, everyone in the league has seen the sheep selfie, thanks to fucking Carey fucking Price, but not everyone knew what it meant… but to make that comment, MacLellan also needs to know more about how involved the thing with Flower had been and Alex hadn’t realised he knew. Still, you didn’t get to be where Alex is in the NHL by allowing yourself to be intimidated, even by your own GM. 

“I’m not sure what you mean, Barry. I thought Columbus was very good for the team and for the charities I work with,” he replies, deliberately invoking the car donation for the kiddies hockey team. There had been a lot of good media about that; it’s just that there had been more about the sheep selfie. Not admitting anything is his best defence; whatever MacLellan thinks he knows, he won’t have any confirmation of it. 

“Well, yes, but you know,” MacLellan stops, obviously realising what Alex is doing. “Well I’m glad we jumped to the wrong conclusion about your order.” He pauses again, as he realises how very undiplomatic that might come across. “Of course if something like that did happen, we would be completely behind you and give you our full support for such a happy event.” 

Alex steps in before MacLellan digs anymore holes. For such an experienced GM, he’s obviously been a bit thrown about having to talk to Alex about his possible born-out-of-wedlock child. “I think it’s been great we’ve been able to sort this misunderstanding out - it’ll be even better if the shop team can find me those bibs!” and he genuinely chuckles at that, mainly because he’s effectively using his GM to find him baby clothes. That’s a delicious thought. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you next week when I get back to Washington!”

The call finally ends; Alex sits for a minute, shaking his head at the conclusion the front office had reached over his order. He can’t even share it with anyone yet as if he tells one hockey player, he’s pretty sure word of his plan will spread before he is able to execute it. 

0--0--0

In the hassle of moving his life back to the US, he kind of forgets about the gifts. Or at least, there’s little more he can do about it until he is back in Washington, so probably more correct to say that he just has other, more important things to deal with. But he arrives back at his house in Washington in the early afternoon after way too long a day of travelling, his body convinced it’s late at night, to find a stack of boxes piled up in his house, all bearing the NHL logo and he can’t help the frisson of excitement he feels at seeing the tangible evidence of his revenge. But he’s tired, and he’ll deal with them the next day. 

The next day he tears into the boxes, unwrapping and opening until his lounge is covered in a treasure trove of jewel red items suitable for a Penguin princess. MacLellan has even come good, and there are a stack of the previously missing bibs. There are probably things he should be doing, but he spends several hours wrapping them in some red wrapping paper he had managed to find, each item individually wrapped for maximum annoyance (both to him and hopefully for Flower too). 

As he wraps, he thinks about how he is to get Flower’s address. He could send care-of the Penguins, but getting them Fedexed to Flower’s house would be more satisfying. He could ask Sergei, but Sergei is back with the Penguins and he doesn’t want rumours to reach Flower before the gifts do. 

It takes him several hours to remember that Orpik used to be on the Penguins too. When he does, he’s exasperated with himself for forgetting such an obvious route. A quick text, followed by an explanation that he wants to send Flower a congratulation card - an explanation that Sergei would never have accepted at face value - yields the address and he’s arranging for a courier pickup. 

In the meantime, the note. He agonises over the note, striving to make it work on several different levels, enjoying the thought of Flower’s face as he reads it. Then, done with writing it, he tucks it alongside the delicate and beautiful Russian Orthodox rosary bracelet he’d bought in Moscow; silver and gold beads intertwined with a diamond and ebony cross closing it off. He’s still not sure why he bought it - perhaps another poke at Flower’s Russian heritage, perhaps a desire to give something that can’t be entirely dismissed as just the next step in their ongoing battle of one upmanship. Or perhaps a continuation of that one upmanship, given the Columbus Cognac. 

That all done, he waits for the delivery pick-up, and starts to ready himself, grinning as he sorts out the rest of his American based life, for the coming season.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ovi's baby gift to Flower arrives. Unfortunately, it's not just Flower who is there when it arrives, and red is such a pretty colour, isn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to holesinthesky for the beta once more. She has to put up with my random inability to remember how to structure dialogue and does it so encouragingly! 
> 
> I originally predicted two chapters for this, but faced with a plot dilemma I still can't decide on (and which of course wasn't in the original vague outline as a good 80% of plot for this pair usually isn't) I thought better to break it here. So I'm afraid you have to wait on one more chapter for the end point (at least for the moment) of this latest round between them.

Flower’s on his way back from what could best be described as a friendly knock about at the new facility at Cranberry when the text from Vero arrives: 

_You need to get home and see this_

It’s not like Vero to be so cryptic; he’s intrigued. He’s also a little concerned - Sid, Geno and Tanger are also on their way over see Scarlett and hang out a bit, re-establishing the rhythms of life now everyone is starting to come back to Pittsburgh. 

_The boys are coming over - problem?_ he responds. Her only response to that is a big grin smiley, so he mentally shrugs and tries to set it to one side until he is home. Patience is not his strongest suit though, despite being a goalie; he sometimes feels like he uses his store up on the ice, meaning his ability to wait is pretty much non-existent off the ice. He drives a little faster, cuts a couple of lights more closely than he would do normally. 

Finally he’s there and walking through the door to be met by the sight of a number of large boxes piled up in the lounge. One is open, and through the flaps he can see the gleam of bright red. 

“What’s going on?” he asks Vero, as she walks over and kisses him welcome. He’s distracted for a moment, but she laughs and pulls away. 

“Boys are coming over, remember?” she says. “And I'm not sure, I was hoping you could tell me. We weren’t expecting anything - that I knew about - and these arrived by courier,” she waves her arm at the pile of boxes littering the room. 

At that, the door sounds behind them and as Vero goes to let his friends in, he’s drawn to the boxes. Reaching in, he sees that everything in the first box is wrapped in red paper, one package partially unwrapped, revealing more red. He picks it up, starts to pull it out of the paper and realises it’s a Capitals jersey. 

“Something you want to tell us, Flower?” Tanger has walked in and caught him, Capitals jersey in hand. It’s pretty recognisable - he resists the urge to stuff it back in the box. “Did you get traded and forget to tell anyone?”

“We finally get good goalie?” says Geno, walking into the room behind Tanger. “Not have to put up with temperamental weird one anymore?” He’s grinning widely as he says it. 

“There’s something weird going on,” he responds, ignoring Geno completely, shaking out the jersey, to find it’s a child's version. “Why would someone send me a children’s Capitals jersey?” He shakes it out, absently noting it as being a replica of Ovi’s jersey. 

Vero has come back in with Sid. “I told you you needed to see this,’ she said. They all come over and stare into the box. 

“That’s a lot of red,” says Geno.

Flower picks up another package at random and rips it open. Inside is another red Capitals jersey, again with Ovechkin’s name on it, this time in an infant’s size. The third package yields a tiny creeper suit, in red, with the Capitals logo all over it. The fourth is a set of Capitals booties. 

“Has someone really sent you a box full of children’s Capitals merchandise?” Tanger is laughing now, picking up another package. Flower nods his permission and inside is yet another Capitals jersey, Ovechkin’s name emblazoned across the back. That sets everyone off. In short order, they’ve gone through the entire box, ripped and torn red paper discarded across the floor, to discover that every single item is indeed from the Capitals. Geno and Tanger are struggling to contain their laughter, Sid is just looking affronted and Vero looks confused. Flower is pretty sure his face mirrors hers. 

The second box is likewise full of Capitals things, with a preponderance of jerseys bearing Ovechkin’s name and number. 

“Who would send us a box full of Capitals stuff?” she asks. 

“Three boxes!” says Tanger, dissolving into laughter once more. 

“You mean who would possibly send you three boxes full of Capitals stuff where most of the clothing has Ovi’s name on it?” Sid asks, eyebrow arched. “I wonder if there’s a possible clue there…”

Flower blinks at that. He’d been very slow to make the connection in his shock and bemusement, but Sid is right, it’s pretty obvious. 

“But what the fuck man, why? I mean I got a text from him congratulating us, I think, at the time,” he waves a hand vaguely as he starts to open the third box, to find it too full of parcels and packages, all wrapped in scarlet red paper. They stare at it a moment, then Geno is pushing past him to pick out a box from one corner, the one thing in the three boxes which isn’t screaming red. As a result, despite the black box, it stands out immediately. 

“Well definitely either Sasha or Kuznetsov!” he says, handing what looks like a jewellery box with Russian writing on the top to Flower. “Classy shop.” 

Flower opens it - inside is an exquisite little bracelet, all gold and silver beads. There’s also a folded slip of paper, which he extracts, passing the box onto Vero. 

“Oh, this is lovely,” she exclaims, tilting the box to catch the light. 

“Is religious bracelet,” says Geno, watching it. “We give for babies in Russia.”

Flower opens the note. 

_Dear Flower and Mrs Flower,_

_Congratulations on the birth of Baby Scarlett Flower! I was very happy to hear that all was well and even better, you had selected such a lovely name for her. But it seems like, with the name you’ve given her, she’d better become a Capitals fan, so I’ve sent you some things for her. I hope she likes them. I’m glad you realised she would be better off becoming a Capitals fan than a Penguins fan. Don’t worry, I won’t tell any of the other Penguins what you have done! You know parents are great when they put what is best for their children ahead of their own wants. If ever you want tickets for a Capitals game for her, just let me know!_

_Yours,_

_Alexander Ovechkin  
#8_

_PS I’m sure Geno will tell you more, but the bracelet is a Russian traditional gift to babies. I thought it would be best so she learns something of her Russian heritage!_

Flower finds himself gasping at the sheer brass-facedness of the letter, speechless and waving it around in his indignation. 

“What the fuck?!” he manages to splutter. 

Tanger intercepts the the letter on the second attempt, removing it from Flower’s hand, and reads it out to the others in the room, having to stifle his laughter as he does so. Sid and Geno don’t appear to take it nearly so well. 

“Your child is not becoming a Capitals fan!” Sid growls. 

“Of course she’s not, it’s ridiculous,” Geno agrees. “Ovi trying to stir trouble. She Penguin baby. Everyone know this.” 

“Not Ovi apparently,” and Tanger is off laughing again. Sid glares at him. 

“You’re not helping,” Sid says to Tanger. Tanger just grins at him, going back to the rest of the packages in the third box, methodically unwrapping them also, adding them to the growing piles of merchandise. 

There’s a childish squall from upstairs - it sounds like Estelle, and Vero excuses herself to attend. Flower takes the bracelet box from her, looking at it in more detail. It is beautiful and no matter how closely he looks, he can’t see anything Capitals related on it. It’s also completely over the top for a baby, but then, looking around his lounge, everything about Ovi’s gift is completely over the top. He shakes his head in disbelief. 

“Oh hey, look, they aren’t all Ovi’s jerseys. Here’s one of Bäckström’s as well!” Tanger exclaims, holding up the jersey he’s just unwrapped, showing the 19 on the back. “Do you think he realised that only sending his jerseys would look a bit self-centred?”

“Just one?” Sid says in disbelief. “He thought one Bäckström jersey would balance out the...” there’s a pause while he looks quickly around the room, trying to make an estimate. “The other 35 or so with his own name on them?”

Geno breaks into laughter, face lighting up with delight. “So Sasha! He’ll be so proud he thought of it!” 

Flower just shakes his head disbelievingly. He’s no idea what he’s going to do with all of this. He hears Estelle from the hallway. 

“Papa… Papa!” she shouts excitedly as she runs into the room and then stops uncertainly when she sees the other Penguins, suddenly going bashful. Vero follows along behind her, Scarlett in her arms. 

Flower crouches down so that he’s at Estelle’s height. “It’s ok, it’s only Uncle Sid and Uncle Kris and Uncle Geno. You’ve met them before. C’mon baby,” holding out his arms to encourage her into the room. She starts to take stuttering steps and stops again, distracted, her eyes going wide in wonder, attention fixed by the bright splash of red scattered all over the room. She walks towards it like one sleepwalking, eyes entranced, mouth open, hands reaching out to touch. Flower feels his heart sinking at her expression. It’s delighted and covetous and filled with wonder.. and want. She reaches out and picks up one of the Ovechkin jerseys. 

“Papa… jolie!” She exclaims, holding it up to examine it, smiling adorably at it. There’s a muttered “Oh my god!” from someone behind him - Flower suspects it’s Tanger, more used to the moods and behaviours of small children and also more fluent in French, quicker to understand that Estelle thinks the colour of the jerseys is pretty. She wraps it around herself, smiling happily and then trots over to him, looking at it as she moves. 

“Jolie couleur Papa!” she says brightly to him, grabbing another handful of jersey on the floor by his feet, holding it out towards him. Automatically he takes it, straightening as he picks her up too, eyes seeking Vero’s across the room. She’s trying to look stern, but her eyes are dancing with laughter. There’s going to be no help from that quarter when he tries to explain why the Capitals jerseys are not suitable for a Penguin princess. Transferring his daughter to one arm, he scrubs his hand across his face, and swings around. Sid, Geno and Tanger are staring at them, mouths hanging open.

“Uncle Sid, jolie!” her bashfulness overcome now, she waves the jersey at Sid, face delighted that he’s there to share her enjoyment. His face is a picture. She’s being adorably cute, but it’s also so completely wrong. 

Flower sees Sid take a breath. 

“Oh no,” he says. “That’s an ugly old jersey. You don’t want that one. Wouldn’t you rather have a pretty Penguins jersey?”

Flower has to admit, it’s actually not a bad attempt from Sid. With something Estelle was less entranced with, it might even have worked. But he knows his daughter, and when she has this look on her face, it’s really difficult to dissuade her. He’s sure she gets her stubbornness from Vero. 

As expected, Estelle’s smile dims. “Non,” she replies before saying insistently, “Jolie, tres jolie!” and she waves the jersey once more. 

“But sweetheart, you’ll look so much prettier in the Penguins jersey. And your Daddy will enjoy seeing you wear it,” Sid responds, voice so gentle and persuasive. He can be very single-minded when he wants something and it’s clear he doesn’t want one of the Penguin babies wearing an Ovechkin jersey. He’s prepared to fight pretty dirty too… Flower catches himself nodding when Estelle looks at him doubtfully. 

“You look so pretty in your Penguins jersey!” he confirms. He feels bad… but she really cannot prefer the Capitals jersey to the Penguins one. Her small face falls some more and he feels his heart breaking a little. It’s for her own good though. 

Tanger walks over and rubs her head. “I love it when you wear the Penguins jersey,” he says smiling fondly at her. She turns to look at him, big dark eyes turned solemn now, and looks down at the jersey around her neck, grasped tightly in her small hand. She grasps it even tighter, like she’s worried her vibrant prize is going to be removed. 

“Non, jolie,” she mutters, but it sounds sadder now, like they’ve eclipsed her joy in her discovery. Flower feels awful, snuggles her tighter to him, rocks her a little to comfort her. There’s a wounded noise from Geno. 

“No, we can’t… look at her! Is not worth it,” Geno says, looking sad and mournful. Sid makes a noise of disagreement and Geno rounds on him. “Really, because Ovi annoy you, you make a little child so unhappy to stop her wearing his jersey? You make her unhappy to protect your pride? Is not worth it, Sid!”

Silence follows his words; there is no answer to what he has said. Flower closes his eyes a moment, has to accept the truth of Geno’s words. 

“Hold up your arms sweetheart, let me help you put this on,” says Geno as he picks up one of the biggest jerseys. It will be too large for her, but easier to slide on. Estelle squeals with excitement, face alight again, wriggling around in Flower’s hands to get closer to Geno. 

“Uncle Geno!” she exclaims at him, holding out her arms. Geno untangles the jersey and slides it over her head, pulling it down as her face emerges from the collar, sorting her hair once the jersey is on. She beams at him in gratitude, rubbing her hands across the bright scarlet shirt. “Tank you Uncle Geno!” She holds out her hands making kissy faces at him, and he obediently leans in to accept the accolade. “Jolie!” she insists once more.

“Pretty!” agrees Geno, smiling at her. 

“Well,” Tanger drawls considering her. “At least we know what Flower will look like if he’s ever traded to the Caps.” 

Sid chokes at that. “That’s not happening. Bad enough one of the Fleury family wearing a Capitals top. Besides, Estelle is much prettier than Flower!”

Flower flips him the bird with the hand behind Estelle’s back. “If it’s just the colour, maybe we can turn the jerseys inside out, then no-one will know they are Capitals jerseys?”

The other three hockey players look at him disbelievingly. He knows it’s a faint hope; it will still look like a Capitals jersey, but it would be a little disguised. 

“I suppose,” says Tanger doubtfully. “But I’m not sure it will make much difference.” Flower sighs; Tanger is right. 

“It might be just a short phase,” Vero says hopefully. “We can try hiding the jerseys and hopefully she’ll forget.” Then she pauses and looks at Sid, steel in her eyes. “But if she doesn’t, you are not to send us Crosby jerseys. This is not going to turn into some kind of jersey war between you two over my daughter!”

“I wouldn’t!” responds Sid trying to sound indignant, but his voice is embarrassed, his cheeks are colouring and no-one in the room believes him. They know he was already planning to get the jerseys. Flower shakes his head at him, and Geno fondly ruffles his hair. 

“They fine with Flower jerseys, Sid. Someone has to want to wear them!” Geno says, good humour restored now Estelle is happy again. Flower flips off Geno, only to have his hand slapped by Vero with a ‘not in front of the children, even if you do think they can’t see you’ look. It’s so much easier when you can just curse at people and not have to worry about small ears and minds which remember every bad word inadvertently spoken. 

The rest of the Capitals jerseys and gifts are rounded up and placed back in a box. Estelle wriggles down and goes to play in the box, humming happily to herself. Scarlett is passed around the other hockey players and made much of, coffee is drunk, snacks are eaten, gossip is passed on, hope for the coming season is shared. 

“You know,” Geno says casually, as he gets up to leave, “the kind of bracelet Sasha sent you is what the godparents often give.” Flower glances at him; his face is innocent but his eyes are dancing. All the lightbulbs are going off in Flower’s head at his words. 

“No,” says Vero instantly. Flower sighs. This is going to take quite a bit of persuasion. “Your daughter is a Penguin baby. She deserves better than having a Capitals player as a godparent.”

Flower smiles beatifically. If that’s her primary objection, that’s easy to overcome. 

0--0--0

It takes three days. Three days of haggling and negotiating and wheedling before Vero is worn down and finally agrees. At the end of it, she looks at him. 

“But why are you so determined?” she asks, puzzled. “If it’s just to troll him back, you’d have given up already, so it’s more than that.” She knows him so well, but she doesn't understand this. Truth be told, Flower isn’t sure he does entirely either. But the idea, once planted by Geno, had just seemed so right. An acknowledgement that it was more than three boxes of Capitals merchandise and an exquisite rosary bracelet. 

He shrugs. “It started as a troll idea, but It feels right,” he says simply. “I trust the other guys so much, and I guess I trust Ovi too, to ask him to care for something so important to us.”

Vero stares at him a moment. “Ok,” she replies. “But you are responsible if this goes badly, if he gets drunk at the christening, and also, you get to explain to her when she wants to start dating why none of her five hockey playing godfathers think any boy is good enough for her!” She’s grinning as she says it. Flower hadn’t considered just how many barriers they were putting in the way of their daughter's future dating attempts, but five hockey players looking out for her is a lot. 

“No boy will ever be good enough for her anyway!” he says.

“Fine, you’ll be able to explain that to her then, when she’s an angst ridden teenager who thinks the world is against her,” she says smugly. 

Flower grumbles to himself. She had been the one to say they couldn’t have just a Capitals player as godfather; so what else could they do but ask some of the Penguins players as well? And then it had proved impossible to even think of asking Sid without asking Geno… and then they realised you couldn’t have Sid and Geno without Tanger or Duper… and suddenly they had found themselves with way too many godfathers. It’s going to make for an interesting christening anyway. But first - he has to actually ask Ovi. Maybe he’ll say no?

0--0--0

There is actually a stunned silence on the other end of the phone for several seconds after he’s asked the question. It lasts so long, Flower, pulls his phone away from his ear to check the signal hasn’t dropped. 

“You want me to be Baby Flower’s godfather?” Ovi sounds, excited, amazed and delighted.. and a little bit suspicious. “Really? You are not asking me as a set-up to a prank?” 

Flower hastens to reassure him it’s a genuine offer. 

“It’s such a responsibility and honour!” Words are babbling out of Ovi, even faster than usual, Flower is having to concentrate hard to make out what he is saying. “Of course I’ll be her godfather! I’ll be the best godfather!”

Flower almost whimpers at that. He hadn’t considered the possibility of Sid and Ovi competing against each other for title of best godfather. Especially not when there is a small Penguin baby at stake. It’s going to get ugly. 

“Flower, I’m so happy you asked me - I can make sure she is exposed to proper hockey, to good hockey and teach her about her heritage!” His voice drops, becoming more serious. “And you know you can rely on me for anything for her, you know that? She’s my goddaughter and Russians take such responsibility very seriously.”

Oh god, he’s also going to have Ovi and Geno competing to see who can be the more Russian godparent. He finds himself wishing that Vero hadn’t agreed. But.. he’s asked now. When you’re in trouble, just keep going. 

“I know, Alex. I realise it’s a bit out of the blue… But you have to understand it has nothing at all to do with her hockey team. She’s a Penguin baby. We’re not going to let you try to convert her to the Capitals! But given everything between us….” and he trails off, unsure how to finish that thought, how to explain this request which does seem random. Luckily you can’t keep Ovi quiet for long. 

“No, no, I’m really honoured that you asked me. Obviously, I am going to convert her though. It’s like the sheep you got me, only better because I get to keep her!” 

It’s at that point, that Flower finds himself once again looking around for a hard surface to beat his head on. Why exactly has he done this?

“And you have to send me lots of photos, and I’ll take her for ice cream when we come to play you. It’s a shame you can’t bring her to Washington when you come to play here.. or maybe you can? The team would love to meet her. They’d spoil her rotten!”

Flower pictures Duper and Tanger’s faces at the thought of them knowing he’s let the entire Capitals team spoil his baby daughter…. 

“I don’t think it’s going to be possible to bring her - she’s still very small, and I can’t leave Vero to travel with two small children in a strange city while I play hockey,” he replies quellingly. 

“Ok, maybe another year then Flower, when she’s a bit older!” Ovi doesn’t seem deterred. “Do you want me to come to the christening? When is it? Where is it?” 

Flower rattles off the details. They’d already checked the Capitals’ game schedule and there is a chance Ovi can make it. 

“Excellent, I’ll be there. And don’t worry about me, I can stay with Sid and Geno! We’ll be able to properly wet Baby Flower’s head with proper good vodka!” His voice turns serious again. “Thank you for asking me Flower, I do recognise this is a great honour. It almost makes me one of the family!” 

With that, he rings off. 

Flower stares at his phone in disbelief for a moment. What the fuck made him think he should invite Ovi to be a godfather?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did Alex think about Flower asking him to be godfather?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrggghhhh this pairing. Always after the limelight! So I have the story arc planned out... and suddenly I want to write a bit more about how Ovi took to being asked to be godfather.
> 
> So bonus extra chapter in mid story! 
> 
> Enjoy =)

His phone is playing a mournful dirge at him, which he doesn’t immediately recognise. That’s odd - that he would give someone a personal ring tone but then never hear it. He picks up his phone to see “FLOWER!!!!” emblazoned across the screen. He snatches at the screen to answer, cutting off ‘ _Where have all the flowers gone_?’ in mid tune. He’d changed it in a fit of pique at the fact that Flower never called him, despite everything. 

“Flower! How is my second favourite goaltender?”

“Ovi, do you have a moment? Is now a good time?” Flower sounds a bit nervous and Alex frowns at the phone. He hopes everything is ok. 

“Yes, for you, Flower, anything! Well, except obviously my team and my car. There must be some limits, even between us!” He can’t help getting louder, more exuberant in response to Flower’s tone. “What can I do for you? Oh, how is Baby Flower? Did you get my gift? Did she like it?”

There’s a sigh on the phone. Quiet, but it’s there. It somehow reassures Alex. If he’s pissing off Flower then things can’t be that bad. 

“Scarlett,” - and Flower’s tone is slightly reproving now “is great. And yes we got your gift. It was very… “ There’s a pause while Flower tries to find suitable words of gratitude, “red.” 

Alex grins. “I knew you’d love it. Penguin princess needs other choices and as responsible parents you’ll appreciate that!” 

“No, she really doesn’t. She’s..” and Flower seems to bite his words off. “Anyway, thank you for the gift. Although you really shouldn’t have bothered, she’s a baby and won’t be able to appreciate them. But we did like the Backstrom top a lot. The one Backstrom top. Amidst the 38 Ovechkin jerseys. Provided balance for sure.” 

Oh, there’s the snarky Flower Alex has grown to know and love. He’s sure though there’s an exaggeration though in the ratio of his shirts to Nikky’s - isn’t there? 

“Well she needs to be exposed to more than just one player on my team. I’d have sent you Holtby’s as well, but it seemed a bit rude. He’s a great goalie, but you’re my second favourite goaltender!” Alex is mad at himself he hadn’t thought to send any of Holt’s tops. He’s sure it would have sent Flower into orbit. 

“Well yeah, sending your second favourite goalie your favourite goalie’s jersey would have been a bit provocative Alex, and we know you’re never that!” Flower cackles - there is no other word for it - down the phone. 

“Oh Flower, Holts is a great goalie and he’s on my team and I love him like a brother, but he’s not my favourite goaltender.” Alex pauses, feeling smug. He knew Flower would have assumed that. It’s reasonable to assume that. But it’s going to so bug Flower… “Now, why did you call me?”

There’s another, longer, pause on the end of the line, and Alex frowns at it. This is back where they were at the start of the call - why has Flower called him?

“Well… it’s.. you know… VeroandIwerewonderingifyouwouldbeScarlett’sgodfather?” 

It seems to take Alex forever to work out what Flower has just gabbled at him over the phone, and then he refuses to accept that he’s understood it correctly. 

“Did you just ask me to be Baby Flower’s godfather?” he says cautiously. He knows his eyebrows have disappeared into his hairline with surprise. Surely not. Surely he misheard… 

“Emm, yes,” replies Flower, quietly. 

It’s not often in his life Alex finds himself without words; Flower seems to be too often involved when it happens. But he’s surprised at the sudden burst of pride and happiness he feels at the honour he’s being offered; it’s almost overwhelming. 

But then common sense intervenes. This is Flower; there will be a catch. 

“You want me to be Baby Flower’s godfather?” He tries to sound calm and detached; he thinks he fails. “Really? You are not asking me as a set-up to a prank?” 

“No, no, no, not at all!” Flower is speaking quickly again. “Vero would kill me if I did such a thing; this is our daughter, she’s too important for that. We want you to stand as her godfather.” 

Alex, despite himself and everything he knows about Flower, hears a ring of truth in his words. And, he’s right; from everything he’s heard about Veronique Fleury, she would not allow Flower to do this if it weren’t for real. He lets himself believe it’s for real. 

“It’s such a responsibility and honour!” He knows he’s letting his emotions leak through; he thinks it’s allowed when he’s the recipient of such a personal request. “Of course I’ll be her godfather! I’ll be the best godfather!” As he says it, he feels the determination in his bones at it. Baby Flower is his first godchild. He’s going to do everything right by her; be a real person in her life she can turn to for help and guidance. And he’s going to turn her into a Capitals fan if it kills him. She will be brought up to appreciate proper hockey. He’s sure he can bring the team on board to help with his mission. “Flower, I’m so happy you asked me - I can make sure she is exposed to proper hockey, to good hockey and teach her about her heritage!” 

A thought strikes him. It may not only be his help and guidance they need one day. There are evil people out in the world who will want to hurt her. He can bring the not inconsiderable protection his name brings; particularly when he tells his mother of his new family member. You do not mess lightly with an Ovechkin. “And you know you can rely on me for anything for her, you know that? She’s my goddaughter and Russians take such responsibility very seriously.” But he can’t help grinning at the thought he’ll also get to tweak Flower about his Russian heritage, insisting she be brought up knowing something of Russian culture. Perhaps he’ll try to teach her Russian, then they can have conversations which no-one else can understand - well except Geno, and he won’t really count. He realises that Flower is speaking again through his dreams, and forces himself to concentrate again.

“It’s a bit out of the blue… But you have to understand it has nothing at all to do with her hockey team. She’s a Penguin baby. We’re not going to let you try to convert her to the Capitals! But given everything between us….” 

Alex snorts at Flower’s naivety. “No, no, I’m really honoured that you asked me. Obviously, I am going to convert her though.” A thought strikes him, how to reassure Flower to show he recognises what a gift he’s being given. “It’s like the sheep you got me, only better because I get to keep her!” 

There’s a strangled noise from the end of the phone - perhaps he has gone too far in comparing Baby Flower, his goddaughter, to a sheep. He’d been sad he couldn’t keep it though. He moves on quickly. 

“And you have to send me lots of photos, and I’ll take her for ice cream when we come to play you. It’s a shame you can’t bring her to Washington when you come to play here.. or maybe you can? The team would love to meet her. They’d spoil her rotten!”

Alex pictures his team with a baby stroller, Nikky watching Lats like a hawk whenever he gets too close, making sure Wilson doesn’t do anything stupid around her. Orpik will help out; he knows Flower too, so will Nisky. She’ll be the most precious baby in Washington. He smiles at the picture building in his mind, so excited at the prospect of introducing her to his team. It’s going to be fantastic. 

Flower sounds regretful. “I don’t think it’s going to be possible to bring her - she’s still very small, and I can’t leave Vero to travel with two small children in a strange city while I play hockey.” 

Hmmm. Maybe so, but he’s pretty sure that she wouldn’t be left alone once the team found out; that’s kind of the point. But she is very small so perhaps it wouldn’t be good for her to come when she is so little. He needs to read up on when it’s safe for babies to travel. 

“Ok, maybe another year then Flower, when she’s a bit older!” No point in pushing it now. Then the realisation hits him that if he’s the godfather, he should be at the christening. Fantastic! He’ll get to meet Baby Flower, and hopefully annoy Sid and Geno too in the process. They’re going to be so happy he’s a godfather of a Penguin princess. So so happy. Ecstatic. He grins, evilly. “Do you want me to come to the christening? When is it? Where is it?” 

Flower gives him the time and place - of course it’s in Pittsburgh, he hadn’t really expected any less. At least it’s not in Montreal. He’ll have to check with Nikky about his team’s schedule, but hopefully Flower hasn’t been stupid enough to make it when he’s playing. He’s not going to admit to not knowing his own schedule yet. It’s still the pre-season, plenty of time to get it taped to his fridge. 

“Excellent, I’ll be there. And don’t worry about me, I can stay with Sid and Geno! We’ll be able to properly wet Baby Flower’s head with proper good vodka! Thank you for asking me Flower, I do recognise this is a great honour. It almost makes me one of the family!” 

There’s another of those strangled noises out of Flower. Alex grins at it. While he may be in awe of the honour Flower is doing him, it’s still fun to get him to to make those noises. Obviously, he hadn’t quite thought through the implications of the invite… 

After the call finishes, Alex feels restless and antsy, unable to settle to anything. He digs out the team’s schedule and confirms that he can go to Baby Flower’s christening. While he has it out, he prints off a copy, sticking it to his fridge. He beams at it proudly; Nikky will be so proud of him, he hasn’t had to be nagged once to do it and it’s even up before training camp. 

Next he digs out his phone and calls Zhenya. 

“I’m coming to stay with you,” he announces without preamble, without greeting. 

“No you aren’t,” replies Zhenya instantly. “I’m busy that night. I have a game, have a trip, have to take Geoffrey to the vet, I’m babysitting. It’s get rookies drunk night. I’m having dinner with Mario. I’m too busy for you to come stay.” 

“Zhenya, anyone would think we weren’t friends!” He moves on quickly, not giving Zhenya a chance to answer that. “You won’t be busy, it’s Baby Flower’s christening so you’ll be in town.” 

“Pittsburgh has some nice hotels, I’ll even get you Penguin discount rate,” Zhenya is sounding oh so amused with himself now. 

“Look if you don’t agree, I’ll ask Sid instead. And you know that he’ll feel obliged to say yes, particularly when I explain it’s for the christening! Polite Canadians and all that.”

“Asshole,” says Zhenya, sounding not nearly so pleased now. In fact, the insult is music to Alex’s ears, it’s the sound of capitulation. He knows he’s just played his ace in the hole; there’s no way Sid will turn down a friend of Zhenya’s. “I’ll speak to Sid first, he’ll say no.” But Alex can hear the doubt in his voice. “And what are you doing coming to Scarlett’s christening anyway? We don’t need rubbish hockey players there!”

“Well no, you have enough of your own, I understand!”

Zhenya makes a disparaging noise and Alex grins. 

“You sound like the Toronto media now.” Zhenya manages to sound smug as he says it; Alex’s grin fades. He doesn’t really want to see what the Penguins do with Phil Kessel, but he’s sure it will be painful. 

“Me? I haven’t mentioned hot dogs once!” he replies, trying to sound hurt and injured. It doesn’t really work. “Anyway I’ll text you my flight details once I know them and you can come pick me up. I’ll even trust your driving. You’d better not send Sid.”

“I’m not going to send Sid to collect you at the airport, you’d kill each other before you even get back into Pittsburgh. And you’d hate his driving. And he’d hate you hating his driving. And you’re still not staying here. Why are you even coming? You’ll stick out like a fart in a rose garden. “

“I’m going to be the godfather, of course I have to be there! I have to make sure Baby Flower gets off to a good start in life. It’s my duty and responsibility to be her moral compass. And with Flower as a father, she’s going to need all the help she can get!”

There’s a shocked silence. 

“Flower’s asked you to be a godfather?! What the fuck? Fucking Flower, I know goalies are weird but he’s finally lost it. As though you brainwashing Estelle… “ Zhenya trails off. It raises Alex’s suspicions. 

“What have I done to Estelle?” he demands.

“I didn’t say anything about Estelle!” Zhenya sounds defensive and guilty now, awakening Alex’s hunter instincts. There’s something going on here he needs to know about. 

“You did; you said I had brainwashed her. What does that mean Zhenya?” He’s confused; he’s had nothing to do with Estelle. Why would Zhenya think he had brainwashed her? 

“It’s not important. Way less important than Flower’s stupidity anyway. Maybe he’s asked you to show to Scarlett what a bad example is. I could see him doing that!” 

Alex can recognise the sound of diversion happening. He’s used it too often himself. 

“Zhenya, tell me what you meant about Estelle,” he sing-songs cajoling down the phone. “You know you won’t be able to keep it from me!”

“I have to go now, practice. You’re still not staying here, but send me your flight details so we know when to avoid you. Bye Alex!” 

Zhenya’s voice is replaced with the dial tone. Alex swears in frustration. From experience, Zhenya will now avoid him, knowing that he is putty in Alex’s hands when it comes to not saying things he shouldn’t. 

It’s a faint hope, but he texts Sergei. 

_What am I supposed to have done to Estelle Fleury?_

It’s over an hour later - and Alex has been pacing around the house restlessly. It’s not like the biggest Russian gossip in North America to take so long to reply and that worries Alex. 

_Nothing. Leave me out of it. I know nothing_

Fuck it. Sergei has obviously taken his PTO with the Penguins seriously and the gossip about them will have dried up. 

He wants to know!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the plus side, my dilemma is resolved. I have to write the christening... so that should be next up. Unless they get out of control again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More gifts arrive...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this idea kind of popped up and once I had it, it just begged to be written. It wrote up so quickly - in an evening, so why make you wait =)
> 
> I've taken out the final chapter count - no idea when this madness is going to stop....

Four days after Ovi has agreed to become one of Scarlett’s godfathers, another delivery arrives at Flower’s house. This time, Flower’s actually in when the delivery comes. Unfortunately, so are Tanger and Duper. 

They stand staring at the box after the delivery driver has driven off. It’s at least as big as Flower, and strangely light for its size. 

Flower glances at the delivery note in his hand and then tilts it gently so Tanger cannot see the sender’s address. 

“It’s nothing, just some things Vero has ordered!” he says airily trying to direct them back to the snug. 

Tanger gives him a look. “We’ll help you move it if you like?” he offers helpfully. He looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “It looks a bit awkward to move by yourself. And Vero will kill us if we leave it for her to do, even if it is her… what did you say was in it?” 

“Just some things for the garden,” Flower replies, trying not to grit his teeth. He doesn’t actually know what’s in the box, but given Ovi is the sender, neither does he want Tanger and Duper to be there when it’s opened. It doesn’t bode well, particularly not after the last delivery. “You could help me move it through to the garage out of the way?” Tanger nods agreement, flexes his muscles, which causes Flower to roll his eyes at him and then the three of them move the rather awkwardly sized box into the garage, safely out of the way. 

Out of sight, out of mind he hopes. Remove it from inquisitive hockey player eyes and hopefully they’ll forget about it. Once it's safely in place, they stand back, looking at it, before he turns to head back to the snug. 

“Flower,” Tanger says, looking at his hand as he moves away, “is that from Washington?” 

Flower glances down - the paperwork has got turned around and is now readable to those same inquisitive hockey player eyes he was trying to avoid and which had obviously noted what he was trying to do. He quickly moves to conceal it again, but Tanger beats him to it by snatching the papers from his hand and dancing back quickly out of reach. 

“Your reflexes are back then,” Flower says sourly to him. 

Tanger grins as he reads the paper work. “It seems like yours could still use some work before the season begins.” He hums. “Oh yes, it is from Washington… oh look, it’s from Ovi! What can possibly be in the box - maybe he didn’t think you had enough of his jerseys?” He laughs. Duper is grinning. They’re both enjoying this way too much. 

“Fuck you,” he mutters. “You’re just jealous!” But he knows it’s a weak response.

“I’m jealous that you are being bombarded with Caps memorabilia by a mad Russian who you have asked to be a godfather to your youngest daughter, while your eldest hasn’t been seen wearing anything but Caps clothing for the last week?” Tanger laughs even more. “You do realise that Sid now has a Google alert set up for you and Holtby for any trade rumours linking you with a move to Washington?” 

Flower blanches slightly at that. He hadn’t realised Sid was so worried. “I’m a Penguin! I’m not going to Washington and Sid should know me better than to think that.”

Duper grins. “Flower, you’re getting too gullible - all this is clearly throwing you off, you’d never normally believe that! We know you’re a Penguin and staying with us. We also know you’re a goalie, so you're meant to be weird, but this thing with Ovi is really weird!” He shrugs. “On the other hand, I’m not sure I’d be Scarlett’s godfather without it, so it’s not all bad. And we still have to find out what Ovi has sent you now!

Flower scowls at Tanger. “Fuck you!” he says, this time with more heat. “For that, I’m going to wait until you’re gone before I open it!”

“You know we’ll only keep asking at practice what it is if you don’t tell us now. And then you’ll have to explain to the whole team why you’re getting presents from Ovi.” It’s pretty blatant blackmail now from Tanger, but Flower knows - through long experience of him - that he’ll make good on his threats, and in worse ways than Flower can imagine now. Probably by asking during media availability or something like that. You don’t mess with Tanger when he wants something. So he sighs, to show how put upon he is, and gets to opening the box. At least he gets to find out what’s actually in it, rather than having to wait for them to leave. His skin was starting to crawl with curiosity. 

Ten minutes later, and they’ve revealed a five foot tall, stuffed toy bald eagle. Of course, it’s wearing an Ovechkin jersey, but something about that is odd, and when he looks closer he realises it has two jerseys on. Running his hand across the soft, soft fur to peel back the outer one, the one underneath is revealed to be a Holtby jersey. 

“That fucking miserable fucking Russian fucking fuckity fuck fuck fuck Ovechkin!” He can’t believe that fucker has done this to him. There’s a strangled gasp from behind him, and he turns to find Duper and Tanger are leaning against each other, laughing so much they are unable to support themselves any longer. 

“And you can just fuck off too!” he growls at them, marching out the garage to leave them to their hysterics. 

0--0--0

Four days later, there’s another delivery truck pulling up to his house. He watches it with a fair amount of trepidation. Now what? 

“MARC!” he hears Vero call. 

“I see it!” he calls back, going to answer the door. 

The box is even bigger this time. He signs for it, accepting the paperwork as Vero arrives. 

“What’s he sent now?” she asks accusingly, as though this whole mess is all his fault. 

“It’s from Pittsburgh,” he says, “so it’s not Ovi this time.” The form doesn’t have a name on it, just the return address as Consol. That doesn’t actually put his mind at any more ease, given his team mates. 

He gets to opening the box, there in the hall. 

Shortly after, there’s a six foot tall stuffed toy penguin standing in the hall. It’s wearing a Crosby jersey. 

“Oh Sid!” giggles Vero. “We said he wasn’t allowed to get into shirt wars with Ovi… we said nothing about soft toy wars. Of course when he heard about the stuffed eagle, he wasn’t going to let it go unchallenged!”

She’s laughing now, face in hands, almost weeping with laughter, and Flower finds it catching. The sheer ridiculousness of two of the top hockey players in the NHL competing for the affections of a baby who is less than three months old through the largest soft toys he’s ever seen is just far too delicious to resist. 

He’ll figure out what the hell he’s going to do with the toys and how he’s going to stop the escalation later. For now, he’ll just stand and laugh until he aches at the sight of a six foot tall penguin in a Crosby top in his front hall, while a stuffed eagle in a Holtby and Ovechkin top still resides in his garage. 

Mind you, he’ll text a picture of the penguin later to the rest of the team too…..


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the christening is here...

There’s something… wailing at the edge of his consciousness… he tries to ignore it, burrow back down into soft, welcoming fuzziness. 

“Marc”

His brain jerks awake, unable to ignore either the imperative command of his wife, or the elbow to the ribs he’s just received. It wants to go back to unconsciousness so badly, drifting off again… 

“MARC!”

“I’m wake... “ he mutters into his pillow, a trifle incoherent, knowing that if he doesn’t respond, doesn’t acknowledge her, the elbow will only get harder. There’s some weird noise coming from outside. 

“There’s somebody outside!”

That’s fine, they’re not inside which would be a problem. Outside is where they should be. He grunts, tries to go deeper into his pillow, convinced that he’ll re-find the sleep his body is crying out for, there. 

“Marc you need to go see what is going on!”

He sighs, raises his head from the pillow, blinking blearily to see the clock - 03:27. It’s insane. 

“Vero, it’s 3:27!” his voice is pleading. 

“That’s why you need to go see what’s happening. There are some people in the garden,” she sounds worried and that makes him look towards her. He can’t see much, but he can see she’s sat bolt upright, tenseness radiating off her posture. He levers himself upright, hissing a bit as the bruise across his ribs stretches, listening as well. 

He can definitely hear voices outside; he can’t make out words, but there’s voices and… laughter? Rubbing his hand across his face, he throws back the covers, leaving the warm cocoon regretfully, reaching for his dressing gown and pulling it on over his suddenly chilled flesh and making for the window. 

Tweaking back the curtain he looks out; Vero was right, there are three people on the lawn. There is now the sound of singing - bad singing - and as he watches he realises only one of them is singing, staring up to the house; one is laughing - well giggling actually - and the third appears to be arguing with the other two… 

He suddenly recognises two of the figures. He should; he watches them just about every day, knows how they move how they react. He also knows that giggle. And stares hard at the third… the one who is singing. 

“Tabernak de oasti!” he exclaims. No, really no. 

“What is it?” Vero stays sharply. Her tone is worried, scared and he hurries to reassure her. 

“It’s ok, it’s only Sid and Geno and Ovi!” He glances back down. “Ovi appears to be singing”, he says grimly. It is 3:27. 

“What the fuck are they doing here?” She exclaims, worry changing to anger. “Marc…” 

He interrupts quickly. “I know, it’s all my fault! I’ll get rid of them. Go back to sleep!”

“It’s the christening tomorrow. Get rid of them quickly and come back to bed!” She rolls over, pulling the covers up over her head. Flower stares at her a moment, jealously. 

He pulls on some trousers before slipping from the room and running lightly downstairs, flipping on lights as he goes. Stopping at the front door, he pulls on a coat and a pair of shoes before taking a deep calming, preparing breath, turning on the outside lights and heading outside. 

Outside it’s cold - it is night, on the edge of winter, in Pittsburgh - but not frigid. If it had been, he reflects, he might not have been brought out of his warm bed at 03:27 to investigate people in his garden. 

“Do you know what time it is?” he opens, fairly reasonably he thinks. 

The figure lying on the ground singing, sits up. “Flower!” Alex exclaims. “You came!” 

Flower ignores that, looking towards Sid, who is also sat on the ground, still giggling. God knows what he’s been drinking to end up like that. Finally, he looks towards Geno, who is standing beyond them, looking a bit shame-faced.  
“G, what’s going on?” Of the three, Geno looks least drunk and therefore most likely to answer his questions. 

Geno shrugs, still radiating embarrassment. “Sasha thinks it is a good idea to visit you, and persuaded Sid it was a good idea. I came along to make sure they didn’t get lost, cause a scandal” and he frowns at them both, disapprovingly. 

“It’s 3:27!” exclaims Flower. 

“I had to see you! You’re my second favourite goalie!” Alex is looking up at him. His expression is disturbing. “You asked me to be your daughter’s godfather!” 

Sid has stopped giggling, is frowning at Alex. “Why is he only your second favourite goalie? He’s the best goalie!” He seems ready to defend Flower’s honour. 

Flower looks at Geno. “Why did you let them drink so much?”

“You try stopping Sasha,” Geno growls back. “And Sid tried to match him drink for drink after Sasha suggested he was a weakling who was letting down Canada if he couldn’t.” 

Of course Alex did. And of course Sid did. Flower sighs. 

“We have my daughter’s christening in 8 hours! You need to get a car, go home and sleep it off!” 

Alex actually pouts at him. Pouts at him! 

“I came to see you! You can’t just send me off without inviting me in! It’s not polite and you are still Canadian even though you are Russian also!”

“Flower is not Russian!” growls Sid. He seems to be getting more belligerent in Flower’s defence, going from giggly and happy to defensive and angry. Flower shakes his head, catches Geno’s eye, who shrugs again. 

“Ok, well we are not going to carry on this conversation in full view of the world,” Flower says. “You are going to get up, we are going to go into my house - quietly - because my in-laws and my wife and daughters are there, and then I’m going to call you a car and you’re going to go home.” 

Geno moves over to Sid, leveraging him to his feet, letting him drape an arm around Geno’s neck for support. Flower looks doubtfully at Alex. Pierre McGuire may know exactly what weight Alex is and where he went to school, but all Flower knows is that Alex’s heavy, and there’s no way Flower can lift him to his feet. He’s left with the power of sarcasm. Fortunately, mighty that power is. 

“Awww does the little-Capitals-captain need help getting to his feet?” he asks in his best ‘talking to a small child’ voice. “Is he too drunk and incapable of getting up without help from the Penguins goalie?” 

It works. Alex shoots him a look of pure disgust, but makes the effort and disentangles his feet, lurching to them with only a little assistance from Flower. Slowly, Flower helps steer them into the house, kicking off his shoes as he enters, leading the group towards the kitchen where he automatically starts to brew coffee as he leaves them sat or propped at the kitchen table. While he does so, he gets on the phone to the car service the Penguins use. 

It’s not good news. There’s nothing available until later in the morning. 

“How did you get here?” he asks hopefully. 

“We came to see you Flower!” Ovi replies, blinking at him as Flower hands him a mug of hot, black, sweet coffee. He has no idea how Ovi usually takes it, doesn’t actually care. It’s 03:45 and his daughter gets christened in eight hours. 

“Cab,” says Geno shortly. Flower shakes his head. That’s why they have a car service - to stop the ‘what the drunken hockey players did’ gossip. For Sid to be that drunk….. 

Flower hands Geno his tea, Sid his milky white coffee. It kind of matches his complexion. Flower looks at him again, puts a basin by him as well. 

“You couldn’t stop them? You seem to be the grown up tonight,” he looks over at Geno. Geno shrugs, a world of futile arguments with drunken people in that shrug. 

“No. You try stopping them when they like this! Besides, it’s your fault. You asked Sasha to be godfather, all your fault.”

“I’m going to be the best godfather!” is mumbled emphatically from the heap that Ovi is currently in. Sid growls at him. 

“You can’t be the best godfather, you’re not a Penguin!” 

Geno and Flower look at each other. In Sid’s head, there was probably logic there someplace. Flower intervenes as he sees Ovi winding up to reply. 

“What we’re going to do is finish our coffee and then you’re going to stay over in the playroom - every other bedroom is in use, but there’s a day couch and I’ll fetch you some pillows and blankets. And then once you’ve slept some of this off,” he gestures to them both, “then you can go home and make yourselves ready to act as the sober and responsible godfathers you are going to be to my daughter.” 

It’s a great plan. 

It really would have worked well. 

It’s just unfortunate that somehow Ovi gets away from him as he’s ushering them in the direction of the playroom and stumbles across the drinks cabinet. 

It’s very unfortunate that he recognises the good vodka Flower has bought under pressure from Geno and falls upon it with the cry of a man raising the Stanley Cup. 

“I knew you were part Russian!”

It’s less unfortunate and more about the quantity of vodka left in the bottle that it takes them more than an hour to finish it. Flower tries to argue that they don’t need to finish it, but is out-voted by Ovi. He’s not actually sure that having one person disagreeing with him is actually out-voting, but they are unable to extract Ovi, and hence Sid, from the vodka until it is done. Long before that point, Flower is joining in through sheer self-defence. Besides it’s good vodka and Ovi is getting all of it. 

Eventually though, at not long after 5 am, Flower is piling spare blankets and duvets and pillows into the playroom and leaving them to get on with it, sneaking back between the covers where Vero is peacefully sleeping. 

Except of course she isn’t. She elbows him between the ribs as he crawls in beside her, catching him once more across the bruise from the game earlier. He moans pitifully. Hockey hurts are nowhere near as bad as pain inflicted by your wife. 

“You left me to look after Scarlett alone while you were drinking with your hockey buddies. We have to get up in two hours if Estelle doesn’t waken us before then!” 

Flower almost hopes Estelle goes straight to the playroom, but he doesn’t really want his daughter discovering three drunken/hungover hockey players snoring in her playroom. 

At least, he shouldn’t want that. There’s a small part of him which thinks it would be the perfect revenge as well. 

0--0--0

Groggy with lack of sleep he does however manage to wake up and retrieve Estelle after she wakes up but before she discovers the new house guests. Hoping to earn some brownie points from Vero - because he knows at this time he’s desperately in need of them - he leaves her to sleep in a while longer while he takes Estelle downstairs to amuse her quietly in the kitchen while he brews himself coffee. It’s a bit early for anyone - including their official house guests, Vero’s parents in the guest rooms - to be up, but he brews a big pot of coffee and leaves it to simmer. Estelle is now happily watching cartoons in the snug so he runs upstairs to check on their unofficial house guests. Sticking his head quietly around the playroom door, he has to bite back a laugh at the view which meets his eyes. 

When Ovi and Sid had bought the giant soft toys, he’s pretty sure that this was not the use they had intended for them. Yet somehow Ovi has ended up snuffled up into the giant eagle, arms wrapped around it in a death grip, face relaxed and mashed into it, loudly snoring.

Sid on the other hand is quite clearly spooning the enormous penguin, while being spooned by Geno in turn. He looks at peace with the world, several years younger, secure and held in his love’s embrace while ferociously cuddling the symbol of his obsession. There’s a sweetness to the scene; but it’s also very funny. 

Biting his lip severely to stop himself from laughing out loud and disturb any of them, Flower takes the opportunity to snap several - well ok, actually many - photos on his phone, before he quietly closes the door over and goes back down stairs. 

The rest of the house wakes slowly, dribbling downstairs to find Flower and the coffee pot. Surprisingly Sid, Ovi and Geno are some of the first. 

Sid is looking green and embarrassed and Flower thinks that it’s probably his discomfort at how last night ended that has him - and by extension Geno - awake and mobile much earlier than Flower would have predicted. 

Ovi on the other hand looks as Ovi always does; annoying and loud and not at all shame-faced. He greets Flower with an exuberant cry of “Flower!”. 

“How are you feeling this morning?” Flower looks at them, eye-brow raised. 

Geno grins broadly at him. “I’m fine, little stiff, your floor is not comfy Flower! You need softer floors for when hockey players get into stupid drinking competitions and cannot get home again.” Sid goes scarlet; Ovi shows his first signs of discomfort. Ovi and Geno have been friends a long time and Geno undoubtedly knows how to push Ovi’s buttons. 

“Well I see you found something to help soften the floor”, and he gestures towards his phone, which just happens to have one of the pictures from this morning set as his wallpaper. He can’t stop the wicked grin on his face. Really, he can’t. “You were so cute!”

“What the ..” the words are hastily bitten off by Ovi as he remembers he’s in a house with small children. Flower has to give him props for that. “How did you get that?”  
Flower smiles at him. “I checked up on you sleeping beauties earlier and you all made such a touching picture! I couldn’t resist.” Geno is laughing. 

“Send me copy Flower! So cute!” He’s smiling fondly at Sid, who is even more scarlet. 

“No...wait.. No Flower!” Sid stammers, stops and then looks at Flower suspiciously. “Who else have you sent them onto?” Ovi looks at Sid in disbelief and then stares at Flower hard also. 

Flower laughs. “No-one really. Just Carey Price and Tyler Seguin!” he says innocently. “Oh and Tanger.”

There’s dead silence and then an explosion of wrath from all three of them. 

“Flower!” in tones of exasperation from Geno

“You stupid…” And Ovi once again swallows whatever pejorative he is about to append. He really is taking the godfather thing seriously. 

“You sent them outside the team?!” Flower has rarely heard Sid sound so shocked. Flower smirks. 

“No, actually I didn’t but it was so very tempting. I know they’d enjoy them,” Flower says grinning widely at their reaction. He glances over to see Estelle hovering by the door, obviously attracted by the noise. “But no, I haven’t sent them to anyone yet.” He catches the look Ovi gives his phone and picks it up. “It is locked” he says scoldingly. “You’re not deleting them.” 

He quickly pours and puts three mugs of coffee onto the work top as a distraction, along with three large glasses of water. It works and while they fall on the drinks with the speed of three guys with hangovers, Flower retrieves Estelle from the doorway, picking her up and carrying her in. She’s smiling at the uncles she recognises, a little unsure at Ovi. He catches her uncertain glance, smiles at her and then his grin broadens into delight. 

“I like your top; it’s very pretty!” Ovi says slyly. Flower glances down; it says something to how often she has worn her Capitals tops over the last few weeks that he had failed to recognise that’s what she was wearing now. Ovi is practically crowing, but Estelle takes the compliment with a big grin. 

“Tank you, c’est jolie!” and she smiles in delight that someone else should admire her treasured tops. “Jolie coleur!” she says with certainty. Flower shakes his head and there’s a groan from Sid. 

Ovi looks knowingly towards Geno. “Brainwashing Estelle?” he asks questioningly. 

Geno flushes. “I never said anything!”

“No, neither did Sergei!” snaps Ovi. He’s obviously enjoying Geno’s discomfiture, even if Sid and Flower are watching them with no understanding of the exchange. But Flower has long thought - and had it confirmed with the Boston incident - that the Russians talk across the league more than most realise and this just seems to confirm that more. 

Ovi looks towards Estelle again. “If you want any more jerseys, ask your Daddy to ask me” he says with a knowing grin. “You can have as many as you want.” Estelle’s face lights up even more at the offer. “This is my number,” he says pointing at the 8 on her back. 

“Number?” replies Estelle, now looking fascinated by this strange man who has come into her life and offered her riches. 

“I wear it when I play hockey, like your daddy. When I play your daddy, you should come to watch us, wearing my jersey!” Ovi’s face is open and innocent and joyful; all except his eyes which frankly are just enjoying the moment far too much. Estelle reaches out and pats him on the cheek. 

There’s a growling sound from Sid. Flower needs to do something before the situation deteriorates fast. 

“Say bye-bye to Uncle Sid and Uncle Geno and Uncle Alex!” he says to his daughter. “They have to go home soon and you’re going to go to your playroom until mamon comes to dress you.”

“I hope you’re wearing red today!” Ovi says happily, watching out of the corner of his eye to see Sid’s reaction. “It’s a big day and you’ll look so pretty!”

“Estelle is wearing pink and she looks lovely in it,” Flower steps in again, but deciding it’s time he makes his escape. He takes Estelle up to the playroom and settles her in. Vero’s going to kill him for the amount of cartoon time she’s getting, but really. What else is he meant to do with three big kids downstairs to entertain as well? 

By the time he’s back downstairs, Vero has appeared as well. She’s being calm and friendly, but there are enough pointed comments for Sid, Geno and even Alex to realise they’ve stepped into a minefield with her after their appearance at the house last night. In short order, she arranges for Tanger to come and pick them up and deliver them home in time to change and get ready for the christening. It’s three suitably chastised hockey players who prepare to leave the house. Just as they’re about to depart, Vero fixes Ovi with a look.

“We’ve asked the godfathers to wear themed colours,” she says. “Your vest and tie are at Sid and Geno’s house.” 

Ovi looks at her. “Themed colours? What colours? What if they don’t suit me?” he asks, an edge of suspicion in his tone. 

Vero smiles back at him, like an angel, the embodiment of all things innocent and pure and good in the world. “Black and gold of course. And too bad, but I’m sure you’ll be fine.” She looks him up and down. “But I think you’ll look good in black and gold!” 

Ovi sputters at that. Geno laughs out loud. Flower can feel himself grinning so hard at Ovi’s discomfiture. The look of dawning comprehension on Ovi’s face is a pure pleasure to watch, as he realises he’ll be in public in Penguin colours, with likely lots of photographs of him being taken wearing them. Flower takes the time to appreciate his wife all over again. He loves her so much; she’s such a good match for him in so many ways. It was a stroke of genius on her part to come up with a godfather colour scheme that happened to involve the Penguin colours. 

She fixes Ovi with a gimlet glare. “ You will wear them, this is non-negotiable. The boys will tell me,” as she waves at Sid and Geno, “if you try to get out of it.”

Ovi sighs but Flower can see any rebellion melting out of him, acceptance taking over. “It’s ok, I’ll be a good boy and wear them, Vero.” He flashes a grin at her. “Small price to pay to be Baby Flower’s godfather!” She smiles back at him. 

Outside he can hear Tanger honking his horn, and he ushers the three to the door, to find Tanger parked there. He looks disapproving but with a glint in his eyes which suggests he’s also enjoying himself hugely. Once they have departed, the house seems so much quieter and emptier, but he knows it’s the calm before the storm. He quickly texts Tanger a copy of one of the snuggling soft toys pictures as a thank you for his help. 

“Love you!” he says to his still grinning wife, pulling her in for a quick cuddle. She smiles up at him. 

“That was so much fun!” is what she says in reply. Flower grins - she is so perfect for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The christening was meant to be one chapter, but I hit a perfect break point, and still had a lot left to write so.... here we go. 
> 
> Also, need a pick-me-up after the game last night. Let's go Pens!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the christening....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I got quite blocked on this. I've never been to a christening and so found it really hard to actually write one. So in the end I dropped back onto one of my favourite motifs between these pair - telephone calls after the event! 
> 
> And yeah, I kind of stopped writing through the stress of the Final (But OMG THEY WON!!!!) and now all the stuff about Flower I am just in denial of that..... 
> 
> Anyway - enjoy!

Flower’s walking out to his car when his phone starts blaring. He almost drops it when he recognises the song as “You’re so vain”; there’s only one person in his phone with that assigned ring tone, but his face breaks into a feral grin as he answers it. 

“Hello Alex, how are you today?” He can’t keep his enjoyment of the day out of his voice. “Did you get home to Washington ok yesterday?”

“Why were there many pictures of me cuddling a toy eagle in my locker room this morning?” Alex sounds seriously pissed off. 

Flower’s heart overflows with joy. He finds himself dancing on the spot, jigging with excitement dropping his bags in his effort to express his pleasure silently so that Alex doesn’t know the reaction he has provoked. He hears a shout behind him, reflexively shoots whoever it is the finger, not missing a beat with his celebration. 

“I couldn’t honestly tell you; I haven’t been anywhere near your locker room. I’ve just finished morning practice at Cranberry. Why would I know what’s happening in your locker room?” Flower tries for confused and nonchalant, but doesn’t think he quite manages to disguise the glee in his voice. 

“Flower!” That was an explosion of wrath if ever Flower has heard one. He can’t help himself, he laughs. 

“I cannot control what your team does in your locker room!” he protests. It’s clear to Flower that he’s getting the blame for whatever has happened this morning. 

“They could only have got the pictures from you!” Alex snarls. 

Flower pauses, holds his response for a moment, enjoying the thought of the effect it’s going to have on Alex. 

“Or anyone else here I gave them to!” he says brightly. 

There’s an ominous silence for a moment as Alex digests that. 

“WHAT THE FUCK FLOWER?!” And really, it’s been too long since Flower has heard that tone from Alex. Probably back in a hotel room in Columbus in fact. He feels like his grin is splitting his head in half. “Who did you give them to?” demands Alex. 

“I’m not sure if I can tell,” Flower starts to say primly before being interrupted by a still furious sounding Alex. 

“Don’t even… just fucking don’t even…. Who did you send them to?” he demands. 

Flower shrugs. “Only Sid, Geno…. Who else…. Oh yes Tanger…. Duper….. And someone else… Fehrsie!” he says triumphantly. He’s not going to tell Alex that Fehrsie hadn’t known anything about them until Flower had sent them unsolicited. Even then, Flower had been planning to have any amount of shade on this one; besides, he’s just trying to get team bonding going, easing Fehrsie’s transition onto his new team. Or something like that.   
He can almost hear Alex’s brain grinding on that information. 

“You evil fucker! Geno wouldn’t think to do this, it’s too conniving for him. It’s too crafty and vindictive for Sid…. it’s too soon for Fehrsie… this just reeks of French-Canadian.” Alex pauses, deep in thought. “Flower,” he croons, “tell me this wasn’t you? I mean… I had wondered how someone on my team had thought to fake a press release with the picture of me and Mario from the christening yesterday, suggesting a trade for me to Pens… but that, that just reeks of you! “ 

Flower grins. He’d thought the press release was masterly. In the photo, Mario had been beaming and relaxed, enjoying the day, Alex beside him, also grinning hugely, cat who’d got the cream, resplendent in his Vegas gold vest and tie and matching handkerchief. Both men had been relaxed, comfortable in the other’s presence. Flower had even thought the Vegas gold colour suited Alex; much better than Capitals red. 

“Besides,” finishes Alex. “We all know that defence can’t write full sentences!” 

Flower’s eyes narrow. Alex is fishing now… he clearly suspects the two former Penguins. He’d be right; he’s also right that Orpy’s writing skills aren’t particularly great. 

“Alex, it wasn’t me!”

Alex sighs. “Now say it like you believe it.”

Flower laughs. “Ok, what can I say, you are right, it was me. And yeah, the press release, that was me too. I thought your team might enjoy a look into your other life!”

“You fucker!” It’s said with a lot less heat now; it’s not really news that this was Flower, Alex is just having his suspicions confirmed. “Two of the babies actually believed your press release! Nicky had to reassure them that I wasn’t leaving. I sometimes wonder if they actually understand what a cap is.”

“You were the one who decided to get drunk and snuggle with the giant eagle you also decided to send me! This was entirely of your making. I was just the facilitator.” Flower is feeling pretty smug now. Perhaps this will slow the arrival of random Capitals gifts. “Which ones?”

“Who do you think? Willie and Lats of course. We had to move Barracuda in with them to try and protect them from themselves.”

Flower laughs. The cluelessness of young hockey players is always fun, but from what he’s heard, those pair take it to a whole new level. And of course things were different in his day!

“No more sharing these things with my team mates, or I’ll have to come up with an appropriate response!” Alex says sternly.   
“As if you could… “ mutters Flower. “Don’t give me ammunition and you’re safe!”

“I will see you in Washington in a couple of weeks… I feel a hat-trick is due then! Are you sure you can’t bring Baby Flower?”

“No, I can’t bring Baby Flower, she’s way too young! And no, you won’t be getting a hat-trick either. We’ll be very happy to have one though!”

And on that, Flower hangs up, chortling to himself at Alex’s reaction. 

As he’s finished dumping his bag in the car, his phone rings again. Not a personalised ring tone. 

“Flower, sorry you couldn’t come into see us like we’d asked!” It’s Jen, their PR lady. 

“Mm, yes, sorry, too busy,” he stops himself shuffling his feet. Yes, he had ignored the message, figuring it wasn’t anything that was too urgent. By this call, he was wrong. 

“Ok, I’ll cut straight to the chase then. You wouldn’t happen to know why there is a supposed press release out there, with a picture which seems to be from Scarlett’s christening yesterday, suggesting the Penguins are targeting Alexander Ovechkin for a trade? And what was Alexander Ovechkin doing at the christening yesterday anyway?”

And just like that, Flower’s day gets even more fun.


End file.
